Page 19 of Things We Fake
Maybe just because of that. Because my life was busy, my stress levels were through the roof, and the only dopamine hits I’d gotten lately were when I’d seen her. I was tired of bumping into her once every couple of years and just thinking of what could have been. I needed to take action.
I couldn’t stop my brain from replaying the moment I opened her door two nights ago and got a face full of startled, messy, real beauty. Most women I dated were Instagram-level polished. Britt had certainly been. But Sue was raw in a way I hadn’t seen in years. It was disarming, and far too tempting.
Our paths seemed to cross too often for it to be a coincidence. Maybe I just wanted to test the waters by helping fate out a little.
I stepped out of the shower, dried off with one of Sebastian’s aggressively lime-scented towels, and tried to remind myself I wasn’t here just for personal distractions. I had a company to run, I had product delays to fix, client expectations to manage, and amarketing team that still thought hashtags counted as deliverables.
Sebastian had plated a breakfast that looked like something out of a lifestyle blog—eggs fluffy and golden, olives glistening, tomatoes sliced with a perfection that did my heart good.
“This is why women fall for you.” I sat, biting into a piece of toasted bread. “You feed them and ruin them for the rest of us.”
Sebastian grinned. “You should try it. A man who can cook is a man who eats well and sleeps better.”
“Unless he’s on your couch.”
“Touché.”
We ate in companionable silence, then I brushed my teeth and got ready for the day.
I pulled on a crisp white dress shirt, carefully fastened the cuffs, and slid into tailored charcoal pants. I always dressed a little formally when I needed to feel like the CEO version of myself—the guy who could walk into a conference room and sell a software license worth five figures without breaking a sweat.
My dad had taught me how to do a perfect tie knot. My smile turned sad, and I wondered if it would ever lose that edge of sorrow whenever I thought about my father. Even after fifteen years, I still missed him like hell. I wished he was here to give me advice and lend an ear when I needed one. I often wondered if he would be proud of the man I’d become.
I browsed my watch collection, choosing my green Patek Philippe—a piece I’d picked up in Geneva two years ago, sleek and understated, but with just enough personality to stand out. The sunburst dial caught thelight as I fastened it around my wrist, the weight familiar and reassuring.
I checked myself in the mirror one last time and adjusted my tie knot to perfection—twice. Then I gathered my laptop bag, slung my coat over my arm, and checked the clock. If I left now, I could swing by Everleigh School, personally check on the patch install, and still make it to my first video call with the product team.
My car was still back in Denver, so I had to rely on taxis and Ubers for the next week or so until it was going to arrive. I took a cab to Everleigh, and spent the drive checking my messages, replying to emails, addressing emergencies. I could already feel the beginnings of a headache tap-dancing behind my eyes.
As I walked through the school’s double doors, I adjusted my shirt cuffs, brushing off invisible lint. At the Parents’ Committee meeting, Susanne said she was the liaison in charge of the software, so I was sure I would see her today. I had no idea how the meeting would go though, especially after Saturday night. I was actually enjoying myself with the guys, watching the game, when that idiot Dave suggested we watch porn. Whoever thought that might be comfortable for a bunch of grown men? And to make matters worse, Susanne had walked in on us and Dave asked her to join the show.
I shook my head, unable to suppress a smile remembering how she’d looked, fierce and disgusted, her eyes narrowed to slits. Sebastian told me she was half Italian, and I thought I detected a slight accent that seemed to get stronger when she was pissed off. Howwould her accent sound when she’d see me again here today? At least my excuse was solid—I worked for Omega Software and the program the school had installed was due for a tune-up. This was all true.
The secretary led me to the principal’s office, a stuffy room that reminded me of simpler times, when I thought staying out of trouble was the key to happiness. Mrs. West gave me a stingy smile, getting to her feet.
“Mr. Jones. A pleasure to see you again so soon. Ms. Morelli will be here shortly.”
I gave her my most professional smile. “Thank you. We’re looking forward to ensuring everything runs smoothly.”
“I didn’t expect you to attend to this personally.”
Before I could answer, the door opened and Susanne stepped in.
“There you are, Ms. Morelli,” Mrs. West growled, her tone suddenly fifty degrees colder. “I believe you know Mr. Jones. He’s here about the software updates.”
I turned around and smiled.
Susanne’s eyes went round, and her beautiful lips parted as she stared past the suit at me.
“Mr. Jones, this is a surprise. I didn’t realize you were the rep from the software company.” She gave me a very fake, very small smile. “If you’ll follow me to my classroom, I have the program running.”
“And you’re having issues with it.” I gave her my most charming smile. “Don’t worry, I have a patch with me. After you, Ms. Morelli.”
I nodded at Mrs. West, opened the office door, and silently followed Susanne to her classroom, her heels tap-tapping on the polished linoleum floor. Her hair waspulled in a tight bun and she wore a large, flowery garment fit for someone twice her age and three times her size.
As soon as we were inside the classroom, she turned on me.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were the rep? Afraid I’d bite your head off because your damn software doesn’t work?”
